


Oceanside

by isyotm



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Beaches, F/M, Vacation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-16
Updated: 2016-08-16
Packaged: 2018-08-09 01:50:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7782196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/isyotm/pseuds/isyotm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The moon, the sand, the sea, and two people in love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Oceanside

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cinderfell](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cinderfell/gifts).



> I wrote this for the Perc'ahlia Vacation fic swap that tumblr user curriebelle put together this past weekend. tumblr user cassiederolo ([cinderfell](http://archiveofourown.org/users/cinderfell/pseuds/cinderfell)) gave me three prompts and I picked "the beach."
> 
> Inspired by "Warmth of the Sand" and "Stolen" by Dashboard Confessional and "The Saltwater Room" by Owl City (romantic beach-y/ocean-y songs for a romantic beach-y/ocean-y story).

The moon hangs heavy and full in the sky, casting everything in a silver, magical glow. She lifts her head up and breathes in, the smell of salt and sand filling her lungs.

The sea. She can hear it not too far away, the waves crashing against the shore. She can see it too, the ebb and flow of it breaking the moonlight into a thousand dancing pieces. She digs her feet deeper into the sand, still warm from the heat of the day, and closes her eyes as she takes another deep breath.

A soft sound to her left lets her know that someone is approaching, but she only nods her head in acknowledgment. She recognizes those long, heavy strides and their owner’s presence is always welcome.

“Couldn’t sleep?” she asks as Percy settles down next to her.

“Yes, well, the thunder in my room made it rather difficult,” he tells her dryly.

She laughs, remembering the last time they had to share a room with Grog. “I’m surprised my brother is putting up with him.”

“He was missing when I woke up. I suspect he found _other_ sleeping arrangements.” He raises a significant eyebrow at her.

She waits for the familiar sting of jealousy but it doesn’t come. She can’t fault her brother for following his heart when she wants the same thing.

She trails her fingers absently through the sand at her feet. They’re so alike in so many ways, but sometimes it feels like he took all the impulsiveness and left none for her. _What am I afraid of?_

The moon doesn’t answer her. The sea continues to whisper its same song. She starts pulling the sand together in a small pile. _Be brave._

Percy shifts next to her and she freezes for a second, afraid he somehow heard her thoughts, hopeful and afraid he understood, anxious to see what he’ll do, but he only starts digging a moat around her little pile.

“Naturally, you’ll want to keep out invaders.”

“I doubt they’ll be interested in such a sad prize.”

“You never know. It might be very appealing to a passing barbarian tribe. And then where would the villagers be?”

“Oh, there’s a village now?” she asks to distract herself from the way her heart picks up its pace. She’s reading too much into it.

“Yes.” He marks an X a little ways away from them in the sand. “The village. It’s beautiful. They all agree they’re incredibly lucky.” He looks up at her.

Another breeze blows, pulling at their hair and whisking away a few grains of sand from the top of her “castle.”

Something in her chest aches the way it does whenever they’re alone like this, too close to what she wants but always worlds apart. She looks away and plucks a tiny shell from the pile of displaced sand on top of her feet. “What do you think this should be? A window? A roof for a tower?”

“Are they adding improvements to it?”

“These are benevolent leaders. They know they need to make the castle better if they want to protect the villagers.”

This is the same mistake her mother made. Maybe that’s what stops her. She doesn’t want to be her mother. And she knows Percy, knows he could never be like her father, but she hesitates anyway.

How does Vax do it? How does he just…let go? Let go and let himself love?

The sea is whispering to her again. If only she could understand it.

 _Be brave_ , she tells herself.

It’s silly because she _is_ brave. She’s put her life on the line countless times, they all have. She’s laughed in the face of death itself, but when it comes to matters of the heart, she hides.

She builds another sandcastle a foot away from her first one, putting actual effort into it this time. “What do the villagers think of this one? It’s obviously much better.”

He studies it from every angle, the moonlight glinting off the frame of his glasses as he moves.

If he left, she would be fine. She knows that. She would be sad, she would miss him, but she would be fine.

But she’d much rather he stay.

“Hmm,” he says, bringing her attention back to the two sandcastles and the imaginary village. “It’s alright.”

“Alright? That’s it?”

 “What can I say? The villagers are attached to their castle. Besides, what has this new lord done for them? You said their current leaders are benevolent.”

“That’s true.”

He shifts closer to her and their knees brush. Her heart starts beating faster again.

“Vex’ahlia,” he says softly.

“Percival.” The palm of her hand is cold against the sand. Another breeze, stronger than the last, pulls a few strands of hair out of her braid and makes Percy’s hair stick up even more than usual. The moonlight bleaches the last bits of color out of it until it’s bone white.

The sea continues its same song.

Slowly, carefully, he places his hand in the sand next to hers, their fingertips barely brushing. For some reason, she wants to close her eyes. If she closes her eyes, she can pretend this isn’t really happening and then it won’t hurt when it ends.

“Vex’ahlia,” he says again.

He says her name like this sometimes, like it’s delicate. She doesn’t want him to be delicate with her.

_Be brave._

She twines her fingers through his. In the moment between waves, she hears his breath catch.

She doesn’t look at him. She’s afraid to look at him. She wants to look at him so badly her whole body aches.

She wants to tell him, but maybe he already knows. Maybe he figured it out. Maybe they were in parallel this whole time, working up their courage to say the same thing.

He doesn’t speak. Neither does she.

They’ll get there though.

For now, they have this: Two small sandcastles, one full moon, his hand in hers, and the sea.

**Author's Note:**

> Fun fact: I used to live close to the beach and now I live really far away from it and I kind of miss it.


End file.
